


A Janeway Christmas Carol

by aimeewrites



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: A re-telling of Dickens' Christmas Carol... But with Janeway as the main characterAdmiral Kathryn Janeway has good reasons to hate Christmas - but when past, present and future collide, can she change her mind?The italics are Dickens' words - adapted, of course, the rest is entirely my work
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**STAVE ONE**

Her father _was dead. There is no doubt whatever about that._ She had seen him sink into his icy grave, along with her fiancé Justin, and she had been unable to save them. Having tried to rescue them both, she had been forced to see them both die, helpless. Her own physical pain had faded, but the mental agony of the event had long lingered, and even now, especially near the date, it rose to the surface and engulfed her into a torment of emotion.

 _Janeway knew he was dead? Of course she did. How could it be otherwise?_ She had been there, his sole mourner at the edge of his icy grave.

_There is no doubt that her father was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot—say Saint Paul’s Churchyard for instance—literally to astonish his son’s weak mind._

_Once upon a time—on Christmas Eve—Admiral Kathryn Janeway sat alone in her apartment on the Starfleet Headquarters complex. It was cold, bleak, biting weather and quite dark already—it had not been light all day—and lights were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air._

She was nursing a cup of now cold coffee in her hands. The night had fallen and she could not even be bothered to call for the lights. They had been back on Earth for almost nine years, and she still didn’t feel at home. She wondered if she would ever feel at home. She had no hope of getting another ship in the near future – her promotion had ensured she would offer her tactical experience at headquarters and not go gallivanting in space again. Being kept aground felt a lot like a punishment, but she probably deserved it for the slight breaches of the Prime Directive – well, maybe not so slight, but…

On this Christmas Eve, Janeway was feeling thoroughly miserable. Why hadn’t the Federation abolished Christmas altogether, she thought crossly. Of course the day was no longer a day dedicated to consumerism – in the olden days when people used to try and sell things they did not need to other people, the Christmas period had been a time of over-spending and excess. Nowadays, it was still a period of excess, but at least no one would suffer from that excess afterwards. Except maybe those who over-ate. And herself. Which was why she had cloistered herself in her small inhospitable flat. She just couldn’t cope with all the lights, and the trees, and the decorations, and the incessant music, and especially with the happiness she could read on other people’s faces. It only served to remind her that her father and her fiancé had died two days before Christmas… The first deaths of so many…No, she could not bear Christmases anymore – the universe had contrived to make it the worst day of the year for her.

Her mother had died a few months after their return to Earth – a peaceful death, and somehow less painful to her than her father’s death twenty-one years previously. Perhaps because she wouldn’t have been able to do anything for her mother if she had been there – she was no doctor. But she still thought she could have saved her father. Her sister had moved to Canada with her partner, and she seemed perfectly content with her life. The other deaths had not been so easy to accept.

Since Voyager’s return and the end of the debriefs, Janeway had kept herself to herself and had begged off from as many social occasions as she could. She had found it very hard to adapt to being on Earth again, and she had kept everyone at arm’s length at first, even her former crew. Her first officer… She sighed, gulped a mouthful of cold coffee, swallowed back a tear and stared at her cup. It had a little bump on the bottom, dating from the time she had thrown it at Chakotay. His relationship with Seven had not outlived their return to Earth. So, after several months of hesitancy, of self-doubt, she had invited him for dinner. And then, after the meal and several glasses of wine, she had told him she regretted not having succumbed to tentation… Her exact words were branded in her memory: “If you were to ask me out now, I wouldn’t say no…” But he had – said no. Said he loved her as a friend, treasured their relationship, but that he had… She remembered his words too. He had tried not to hurt her – he had “given up hopes of being enough.” That’s when she had thrown the cup at him. If only he had been happy without her… After all, she had held him at arms’ length for seven years – it wouldn’t have been fair to begrudge him his happiness. And maybe he was… But she had had no news from him for several years. She wiped her brow with her hands, as if to dispel a cruel memory.

They had all been busy with their own lives. Tuvok had gone back to his family, and although he sent her letters, they hadn’t seen each other for eight years. Harry Kim had got married. Icheb was serving on the USS Galatea. Naomi was in her second year at the Academy. There was only Janeway herself, it seemed, who couldn’t settle down. Owen Paris had invited her several times to visit Tom, B’Elanna and little Miral, but she had found excuses. Bad excuses. But she just couldn’t. She had gone once, and seeing the little girl had torn her already frayed heart even more. She would never have a child. About a year after the return of Voyager, during a routine medical, the doctor examining her had frowned and turned back towards her screen. The redhead woman had then told her she was in good health, but had asked her to come to her office for a little chat. Janeway had almost refused – she had been in a hurry, as usual, and medical bays always brought back bad memories. But Dr Beverley Crusher had insisted, and they had faced each other on each side of the desk, Janeway on the defensive, Crusher full of sympathy for the younger woman. And then the doctor had told her - somehow, her DNA had mutated in a way which made her infertile. There was no cure. Stunned, she had thanked Beverley Crusher mechanically and left.

After that, she had become even more of a recluse. Others had tried to draw her out. The crew of the Enterprise had tried to draw her into their midst. William Riker, whom she had known at the Academy, had invited her. She had met with his wife Deanna Troi for compulsory counselling after their return to Earth, and she had nothing against them. She just didn’t feel like socialising. Jean-Luc Picard had invited her. Beverley Crusher had invited her – she had accepted once, feeling that maybe the doctor, being a widow, would understand. She had felt even more lonelier afterwards, even though Beverley had been sincerely welcoming and very, very kind.

Everyone else was living, and she was… Surviving. It made her sad and also, truth to be told, a little bitter and angry. She was interrupted in her gloomy reminiscences by the door ring and she uttered the command “open” before she thought better of it.

_“A merry Christmas, Admiral!” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Harry Kim.,_

_“Bah!” said Janeway, “Humbug!”._ She thought to herself that she may have read too many 19th century novels.

_He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Janeway’s, that he was all in a glow; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again._

“Humbug?” Harry asked.

“Nonsense”, she explained briefly. “I don’t feel Christmassy at all, Mr Kim, and I suggest you leave me alone.”

“But Admiral!”

Harry had always been insistent…

_“Mr Kim!” returned Janeway sternly, “keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.”_

_“Keep it!” repeated Harry Kim. “But you don’t keep it.”_

_“Let me leave it alone, then,” said Janeway. “Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!”_

_“There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,” returned the nephew. “Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round—apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that—as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, Admiral, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good.”_

“Go on,” said Janeway, “and you’ll keep your Christmas by losing your rank! You’re quite a powerful speaker, Mr Kim,” she added, turning to Harry. “I wonder you don’t join the Advocate General's office. You'd make a good lawyer..”

_“Don’t be angry, Admiral. Come! Dine with us to-morrow.”_

Janeway replied that she would not, clinging to the last shreds of her patience.

_“But why?” cried Harry Kim. “Why?”_

_“Why did you get married?” said Janeway._

_“Because I fell in love.”_

_“Because you fell in love!” growled Janeway, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. “Goodbye!”_

He had sent her an invitation to his wedding, a year after the return of Voyager, invitation she had slipped in a desk drawer, and never even read. Her assistant had told her Harry had married Tal Celes.

_“I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I’ll keep my Christmas humour to the last. So A Merry Christmas, Admiral!”_

_J_ aneway turned to the window and did not reply. She waited to hear the door close behind him to turn back. Her face was bathed in tears.

She decided to go to bed, although she did not think sleep would come easily.

Indeed, several hours later, she was still hovering between semi-conscious levels of awareness when once again she heard her door ping. This time, of course, in the middle of the night, she did not answer. _It came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before her eyes._

 _The same face: the very same._ Her father, in his old Starfleet uniform. Standing in front of her. He had a strange transparency to him, and she could almost see through him. She felt a slight chill, but standing up in bed, she said quite clearly: “Not again! You did not fool me the first time, you won’t fool me this time either. And how can you be here? We’re not in the Delta Quadrant anymore!”

_“You don’t believe in me,” observed the Ghost._

_“I don’t,” said Janeway._

_“What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?”_

_“I don’t know,” said Janeway._

_“Why do you doubt your senses?”_

_“Because,” said Janeway, “a little thing affects them._ Too much coffee, too little coffee, species 8472, holographic projections…”

Her father, or the spectre he was, came closer, and suddenly she knew – this may be a trick of her mind, but not the trick of others.

“Why are you here?”, she asked, a little shakily. She was no stranger to apparitions, but nothing of the sort had happened to her since Voyager’s return.

_“It is required of every man,” the Ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world—oh, woe is me!—and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!”_

_I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?”_

_Janeway trembled more and more._

_“Or would you know,” pursued the Ghost, “the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day. I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Goldenbird.”_

At the familiar nickname in her father’s voice, Janeway almost sobbed.

_“You will be haunted,” resumed the Ghost, “by Three Spirits. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls One. Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!”_

_The apparition walked backward from her; and at every step it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open._

_It beckoned Janeway to approach, which she did. When they were within two paces of each other, her father’s Ghost held up its hand, warning her to come no nearer. Janeway stopped._

_The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night._

_Janeway followed to the window: desperate in her curiosity._ She looked out and saw nothing, except those blasted Christmas lights illuminating the city.

_Janeway closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had entered. Nothing amiss. And being, from the emotion she had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or her glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed and fell asleep upon the instant._


	2. Chapter 2

****

**STAVE TWO - THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS**

_When_ _Janeway awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, she could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of her chamber. She was endeavouring to pierce the darkness with her eyes, when the chimes of the 20 th-century clock replica struck the four quarters. So she listened for the hour._

_To her great astonishment the bell went on from six to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve! It was past two when she went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve!_

Something must have gone wrong – well, it was an antique, after all. She decided she might as well stay under the covers, and did so until she heard the clock go mad and lights suddenly switch on in the room.

She sat up suddenly and saw someone looking at her.

“Kes!” she whispered. Once more she was thrown back to Voyager’s time in the Delta Quadrant. The figure did look like Kes, a strange mix of young and old Kes, with a translucent body.

_“Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?” asked Janeway._

_“I am!”_

_The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside her, it were at a distance._

_“Who, and what are you?” Janeway demanded._

_“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”_

_“Long Past?” inquired Janeway._

_“No. Your past.”_

“My past? But why?”

_“Your welfare!” said the Ghost._

_Janeway expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard her thinking, for it said immediately:_

_“Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”_

_It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped her gently by the arm._

_“Rise! and walk with me!”_

_It would have been in vain for Janeway to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that she was clad but lightly in her slippers and negligee; and that she had a cold upon her at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman’s hand, was not to be resisted. She rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, she remonstrated with it:_

_“I am a human, and liable to fall.”_

_“Bear but a touch of my hand there,” said the Spirit, laying it upon her heart, “and you shall be upheld in more than this!”_

_As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground._

_“Gosh!” said Janeway, as she looked about her. “We’re in Bloomington!”_

And so they were – she recognised the fields she had played in and hated as a child. She had already been much more interested in science than in anything to do with mucking about in the soil. And suddenly she remembered… So many things. How she had been a solitary child, driven by perfection and the desire to make her father proud. Suddenly, she and the Ghost were standing in the playground of her old school. It had been, and still was, as far as she knew, a traditional school. Her parents had wanted her to have an old-world education. She remembered herself, age maybe five or six, trying to draw a Christmas card for them. She had attempted to draw a supernatural being called Father Christmas, who was supposed to travel in a sled drawn by reindeers. She had almost finished the drawing when she noticed that she had added too many legs to the animals, and smudged the paint so that the reindeer looked more like a centipede. Furious with herself, she had crumpled up the card her teacher had just praised a few minutes previously and had refused to try another one.

The playground looked empty. _“The school is not quite deserted,” said the Ghost. “A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.”_

_Janeway said she knew it, and tears came to her eyes._

_The Spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to her younger self, intent upon her reading._ She remembered that day well. The day of the Christmas play. She had been eight years old and had landed a big part. She had, in fact, been cast as a star. She had always wondered why. Was it because her diction had been much better than her peers’, some of whom still not having mastered reading? Or because of her big blue eyes? Anyway, as Mary, she had been given a baby doll, a white gown, a blue headscarf and a little monologue. It had all gone smoothly during rehearsals. Then the big day had come. Even her father had made it to see her on stage. She had knelt in front of the makeshift manger, baby in her arms, turned her big blue eyes on the audience – and frozen. Her mind had suddenly become blank and not even the loud whispering of her teacher had brought the words back. Instead, she had scrambled up and run off stage, to hide until the audience had gone home. Afterwards, as her friends were enjoying a Christmas party with sweets and cakes, she had taken the play script to the playground, deciding that she wouldn’t allow herself any treat until she had memorised the whole thing.

Then she saw herself as a young teenager, sulking because her father had been called away on a mission on Christmas eve. She had been sulky and ill-tempered the whole day, spoiling it for herself and for her mother and sister. She saw the hurt on her mother’s face. She now understood how painful it must have been to Gretchen Janeway too to have been so often separated from her husband. And then, in the evening, as they had been ready to go to bed, there had been a knock at the door, and there had stood his father, beaming. They hadn’t gone to bed after all – they had gathered in the lounge with hot cocoa and marshmallows, and he had told them stories about his own childhood. The next day had been one of the best Christmases in her life, mainly because he had taken the time to have a long walk with her – and only her – after lunch.

_“A small matter,” said the Ghost, “to make one so full of gratitude.”_

_“Small!” echoed Janeway. “It isn’t that, Spirit. He had the power to render us happy or unhappy. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.”_

_He felt the Spirit’s glance, and stopped._

_“What is the matter?” asked the Ghost._

_“Nothing particular,” said Janeway._

_“Something, I think?” the Ghost insisted._

_“No,” said Janeway, “No. I should like to be able to talk to someone now. That’s all.”_

_“My time grows short,” observed the Spirit. “Quick!”_

Next, she saw herself and Justin planning how they would spend Christmas. “I’m looking forward to that shuttle-testing mission, Kathryn – and then – I know your parents invited us, but I was thinking… What would you say to a little ski trip – just you and I? For our first Christmas together?” She had burrowed closer to him, nestling in his chest… Three days later, her father and Justin were dead and she was lying on a biobed at Starfleet Medical with a concussion and a broken leg. She had never told him she loved him. She had been too raw from her experience with her first boyfriend, and… She had never told him.

_“I wish,” Janeway muttered, putting her hand in her pocket, and looking about her, after drying her eyes with her cuff: “but it’s too late now.”_

The scene evaporated, only to bring her back to her own flat, but not to her own time. She saw herself stare at her computer screen, face white, eyes unseeing. And then she knew the Spirit would spare her no pain. This was how she had learnt of Seven’s death – one of Starfleet admirals had told her – to this day, she could not remember which of her colleagues had – the voice, the face, everything was a blur. She had not screamed, she had not said anything. She had just let her screen go as blank as her mind. It had taken her hours to move. Days to process what had happened. No spare cortical node in the Alpha Quadrant, and still not enough technological advances to repair it. Seven had known for several months something had been wrong, but only the Doctor had known, and despite his desperate attempts, he had had to watch her die. He had told her later that Seven had forbidden him to tell her. She had left her a message, thanking her for helping her to become human, and “as a human being, I have to accept the fact that I can die, and I hope you will, too Admiral. I am sorry I will cause you pain, but I do not know how to stop this.” Just like her father and Justin, Seven had died on Christmas eve. A gruesome quirk of fate... Janeway had come out of it with new lines around her mouth and dimmer eyes.

Her eyes filled with tears.

_“What is the matter?” asked the Spirit._

_“Spirit!” said Janeway in a broken voice, “remove me from this place.”_

_“I told you these were shadows of the things that have been,” said the Ghost. “That they are what they are, do not blame me!”_

_“Remove me!” Janeway exclaimed, “I cannot bear it!”_

_She turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon her with a face, in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it had shown her, wrestled with it._

_“Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!”_

_She was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in her own bedroom. She had barely time to reel to bed, before she sank into a heavy sleep._


	3. Chapter 3

__

_STAVE THREE_

_THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS_

_J_ _aneway_ _had no occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. She felt that she was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to her through her father’s intervention. She established a sharp look-out all round the bed. For she wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise, and made nervous._

_Gentlewomen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Janeway quite as hardily as this, I don’t mind calling on you to believe that she was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that nothing between a Borg and a Klingon would have astonished her very much._

_Now, being prepared for almost anything, she was not by any means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the Bell struck One, and no shape appeared, she was taken with a violent fit of trembling._ This was when she saw the glow in her living-room. She stood up and went to confront the Ghost.

_“Come in!” exclaimed the Ghost. “Come in! and know me better, woman!”_

“Tuvix!” she gasped. On second glance, she saw that her already frayed nerves had brought to her mind the one she feared to see. The Ghost looked more like a swollen version of Neelix, seemingly endowed with his joviality. _Though the Spirit’s eyes were clear and kind, she did not like to meet them._

_“I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said the Spirit. “Look upon me!”_

_The Ghost of Christmas Present rose._

_“Spirit,” said Janeway, “conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.”_

_“Touch my robe!”_

_Janeway did as she was told, and held it fast._

_All vanished instantly, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning. The sky was gloomy, and there was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet was there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain._

They arrived at a house in the suburbs, where a family had gathered around an old-world log fire – she recognised Harry Kim’s parents, and an older couple she supposed were his grand-parents. Then she saw Harry and his wife. Tal Celes still looked young, but somehow she seemed more mature. So did Harry –responsibility had aged him - her ensign had now become a commander, and he sported a few grey hair. Or maybe it was the consequence of fatherhood – two children also sat on the couch, and two toddlers were running around. Everyone seemed happy. Then she heard the doorbell ring, and another family arrived, brushing the snow from their clothes and hair. Her heart constricted painfully as she realised they were B’Elanna and Tom Paris, with Miral, now a lanky teenager. Everyone hugged. Janeway realised she wished she had accepted Harry’s invitation. This was her family. Harry, Tom, B’Elanna, Seven – they were the children she would never have. Troublesome children most of the time, but she did miss them.

They all ate the snacks laid on the table, talked, laughed, and then she heard Tom ask Harry if he had had any news of “the captain” – although they called her “Admiral” in public, she knew she was still the captain in private. Harry’s smiling face turned sober: “I invited her, but she said she didn’t want to come.”

_“I wonder why you don’t give up – she never says yes anyway ,” observed Miral. Janeway was saddened to see that B’Elanna seemed to agree with her daughter, and so did other members of the assembly._

_. “I am sorry for her”, said Harry. “I couldn’t be angry with her if I tried. Who suffers by her ill whims! Herself, always. Here, she takes it into her head to dislike us, and she won’t come and dine with us. What’s the consequence? She loses the pleasure of our company, and small pleasure it is.”_

He was tackled by Tom at that and they mock-fought, the kids joining in joyfully.

_“I was only going to say,” went on Harry, “that the consequence of her taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I think, that she loses some pleasant moments, which could do her no harm. I am sure she loses pleasanter companions than she can find in her own thoughts and memories. I mean to give her the same chance every year, whether she likes it or not, for I pity her. She may rail at Christmas till she dies, but she can’t help thinking better of it—I defy her—if she finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying Admiral, how are you? I think I shook her yesterday.”_

_It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of him shaking Admiral Janeway. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle joyously._

_After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were about._ Harry played his clarinet, of course, and one of his children did too. Tal played the piano, and Harry’s father played the trombone. Another of the kids played the trumpet. They played traditional Christmas songs, one of them Janeway remembered from her own childhood.

_When this strain of music sounded, all the things that Ghost had shown her, came upon her mind; she softened more and more._

She softened even more and tears came to her eyes when Tom toasted her: “ _Here is a glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, ‘Admiral Janeway!’ ”_

_“Well! Admiral Janeway!” they cried._

_“A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to her!” said Harry. “She wouldn’t take it from me, but may she have it, nevertheless. Admiral Janeway!”_

_Janeway had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that she would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given her time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by Harry; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels._

They arrived at another house, where a more former Christmas lunch, French-style, was taking place. She saw Beverley Crusher, her son Welsey and Jean-Luc Picard – she knew they lived together whenever Picard wasn’t on a mission – and recognised William Riker and Deanna Troi, too. Picard was carving a turkey, while everyone else was helping themselves to stuffing and vegetables. There too, the ambiance felt merry, although somewhat subdued. Janeway wondered whether Jean-Luc Picard often thought of his time as Locutus. She would have liked to talk about it with her, but her self-imposed isolation had forbidden it.

“We should have invited Kathryn Janeway, Jean-Luc,” said Beverley suddenly. ‘I don’t like to imagine her spending Christmas alone.” Troi nodded: “Yes – I feel sorry for her. She has been through so much.”

Janeway felt both angry and sad at hearing them talking about her like that.

“I did, my dears,” replied Picard. “At least, I sent an invitation to her office, and her aide replied she would be unavailable.”

Unavailable indeed – she had strictly forbidden him to forward any invitation to her personal padd, and she had no doubt her Vulcan aide had obeyed her to the letter.

“I wonder what happened between her and Chakotay,” Picard went on. “I thought they would have made a nice couple – any idea, Beverley?”

“Why, Jean-Luc, are you turning into an old gossip in your old age?”, she teased.

He smiled: “Maybe it’s my French romantic side…”

Beverley sobered up: “She never said anything to me. Maybe she talked to Deanna…” The brunette shook her head no. “But she was distraught when… No, sorry, I’ve already said too much. This is delicious, Jean-Luc – is it an old family recipe?”

The others stopped probing and dug in.

Janeway’s eyes welled up. The memory of Chakotay’s rejection still twisted a knife in her gut, although she knew full well what had happened. Her own fears had chased him away…

_It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Janeway had her doubts of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while she remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older._

_“Are spirits’ lives so short?” asked Janeway._

_“My life upon this globe, is very brief,” replied the Ghost. “It ends to-night.”_

_“To-night!” cried Janeway._

_“To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near.”_

_The bell struck twelve._

_Janeway looked about her for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, she remembered her father’s prediction, and lifting up her eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards her._


	4. Chapter 4

__

_STAVE FOUR_

_THE LAST OF THE THREE SPIRITS_

_The_ _Phantom slowly, gravely, silently, approached. When it came near her, Janeway bent down upon her knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery._

_It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded._

_She felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside her, and that its mysterious presence filled her with a solemn dread. She knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved._

_“I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?” said Janeway._

_The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its hand._

_“You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us,” Janeway pursued. “Is that so, Spirit?”_

_The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer she received._

_“Lead on!” said Janeway. “Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!”_

_The Phantom moved away as it had come towards her. Janeway followed in the shadow of her dress, which bore her up, she thought, and carried her along._

The silence carried the gravity of the scene. She could see that most of Starfleet brass was standing in front of the headquarters, although she could only see the uniforms and did not recognise anyone. The stand, wreathed in black, told her it was a funeral. A memorial, probably, since a monument was being unveiled. She had attended enough of them to know. The seats where the family would usually sit were full of people in dress uniform. She was too far to hear more than snatches of the discourses: “a stalwart Starfleet officer…Devotion to duty…Honoured to have served with… Contribution will be remembered…Find peace and serenity…” The standard spiel, usually used for officers who hadn’t done much to make a name for themselves. She looked at the crowd and saw her old crew, with greying hair, several pounds heavier or lighter. Harry Kim – oh, good, he had made captain – and Tal Celes. Tom Paris – Tom Paris was not in uniform – had he left Starfleet? B’Elanna – the pips of a commodore…They were all in tears or trying to hide it anyway, not very well. The Doctor – he had not changed, of course. Reg Barclay… She tried to see the missing ones, tried to ascertained when the ceremony would take place. And then, a bolt of dread made her blood run cold – where was Chakotay? Was it his… It had to be! But where was she? Why wasn’t she there, with them all? And finally, she saw him – standing apart, staring at nothing – grey hair turned white, face etched with pain, fists clenched in anger.

She turned interrogatively towards the Phantom, who said nothing, but made the scene disappeared.

They were in an empty flat, where two crewmen were finishing packing boxes – not many of them, just three. “What d’you think will happen to this?”, the first one asked. “No idea – could go into some kind of museum, I guess… Makes you think, you know. No family… Maybe I should hurry up and get hitched,” replied the other.

The scene switched again and they arrived at a Starfleet Medical mortuary – a corpse was lying on the slab and Janeway shivered. She had seen many dead bodies before, so why should this one feel different? She wasn’t allowed to approach, though, before she was yet again whisked away to another location.

_A churchyard. Here, then; the wretched man whose name she had now to learn, lay underneath the ground._

_The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. She advanced towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but she dreaded that she saw new meaning in its solemn shape._

_“Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,” said Janeway, “answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?”_

_Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood._

_“Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Janeway. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!”_

_The Spirit was immovable as ever._

_Janeway crept towards it, trembling as she went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave her own name,_ KATHRYN Janeway. She had died before – several times, in fact, in other timelines, in other universes. She had watched her future self be assimilated and dying. But never had she seen her own tombstone, and this was harder to take than seeing her body beamed into space. She shivered violently and fell to the ground beside it.

_“Spirit!”she cried, tight clutching at its robe, “hear me! I am not the woman I was. I will not be the woman I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope!”_

_For the first time the hand appeared to shake._

_“Good Spirit,” she pursued: “Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!”_

_The kind hand trembled._

_“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”_

_In his agony, she caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but she was strong in her entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed her._

_Holding up her hands in a last prayer to have her fate reversed, she saw an alteration in the Phantom’s hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into dust._


	5. Chapter 5

__

_STAVE FIVE_

_THE END OF IT_

_Yes_ _! The bed was her own, the room was her own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before her was her own, to make amends in!_

_“I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!” Janeway repeated, as she scrambled out of bed. “The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh Daddy! Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this!”_

_She was so fluttered and so glowing with her good intentions, that her broken voice would scarcely answer to her call. She had been sobbing violently in her conflict with the Spirit, and her face was wet with tears._

_Running to the window, she opened it, and put out her head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!_

_“What’s to-day!” she cried._

_“_ It is the 25th of December, 2388”, replied her padd.

_“It’s Christmas Day!” said Janeway to herself. “I haven’t missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can!”_

_Doing her hair was not an easy task, for her hand continued to shake very much; and it requires attention, even when you don’t dance while you are at it. But if she had missed a strand or two and her bun had not been as perfect as usual, she would not have minded at all._

_She dressed herself in her dress uniform – she had lived mostly in uniform since she had come back to Earth and felt she had nothing more festive to wear - and at last got out into the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as she had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present, Janeway regarded every one with a delighted smile. She looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured cadets said, “Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!” And Janeway said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds she had ever heard, those were the blithest in her ears, even if she still very much disliked being called “sir”…._

_She walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and found that everything could yield her pleasure._ In the afternoon she turned her steps towards the transporter building and transported to Harry Kim’s house.

 _She walked around a dozen times, before she had the courage to go up and knock. But she made a dash, and did it._ The door was opened by a toddler who looked her up and down, her thumb in her mouth.

“It’s all right”, she said gently. “I think I’m expected. Sort of.”

She went inside and headed towards the source of noisy laughter.

_“Harry!” said Janeway. “I have come to dinner. Will you let me in?”_

_Let her in! She was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!_ Every one came to hug her, and she remembered how comforting it was to hold and be held. When came the moment to say goodbye, after several hours of warmth and merriment, she took Harry aside and thanked him for not having given up on her. He blushed just as he had as a young ensign on Voyager and replied, “Not me, Admiral – I would never.”

When she got home, her place was in darkness. It was still early evening, and Janeway decided to settle with a book. She hadn’t mingled like that with so many people for a long time, and she felt the need for a little peace and quiet. All in all, she had spent a wonderful day, and yet… She was reminded of the 19th century poet Lamartine and his “only one is missing and yet your world is empty”. She still missed Chakotay. Would she always miss him?

Several hours later, as she was ready to take her book to bed with her, seeking the comfort of her pillow and blankets, her doorbell rang. “Not again!”, she thought, but then remembered the ghosts had not rung. She paddled to her padd and looked at who was in the hallway. Then she rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She had to hope it wasn’t another cruel trick of her senses. Holding her nightdress closed with one hand, she went to open the door.

“May I come in?”, said her visitor. “I know it’s late, but… I had to see you.”

“Chakotay”, she breathed, and let him in.

Feeling suddenly light-headed, she sat on the sofa. He came beside her and seized both her hands in his own. Her breathing became shallow, and she could only look at him, wishing desperately this wasn’t a dream, unable to speak.

“Kathryn… I’ve been a fool. I… I wasted so much time. I have no right to ask, but… I love you, Kathryn. I think I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you, defending the honour of that rascal Tom… Will you give me another chance?”

There was no need to speak, after all, and her lips found his in the kiss she had been missing for so long. She did not get to bed alone that Christmas night – indeed, she clung to him, and he never let her go.

_Her own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for her._

_She had no further intercourse with Spirits, but it was always said of her, that she knew how to keep Christmas well, if anyone alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so,as Tuvok would have said, Live Long and Prosper!_


End file.
